Close to Flying
by TomiSama04
Summary: When Michael kicked Lucifer out of heaven, his wings were burnt from his back and it damaged his Grace. He might not be as powerful (or as beautiful) as he used to be, but he would still do anything to prove his father and his brother wrong. [Samifer]


**Title: **Close to Flying  
**Author:** Tomi (talesfromperdition on tumblr, TomiSama04 on FFnet and AO3org)  
**Content Warnings:** Spoilers up through season 5 finale  
**Prompter:** Luciferious

**Prompt Used: **Fallen Lucifer (Note for Clarity's Sake: When Lucifer was cast out of heaven, his wings burnt from his back, which left his grace stunted. He still has some powers, but nowhere near what he or the other archangels had in the show. This is mostly a retelling of the mythology and the Supernatural story based what would be different if Lucifer had fallen from the beginning instead of being cast out and remaining as powerful as he was).

* * *

For the first rebellion in the history of History, it was kind of a joke. Although the angels had a different concept of time than humans, the American Civil War would prove to have been a longer battle with far greater casualties than Lucifer's attempt at usurping his loving but wayward Father.

Three days, Lucifer thought to himself as he faced his banishment. He had been beaten in three days by God's youngest creation – a stepbrother, God had insisted upon calling him, with a private little smile on his face – and Lucifer was enraged and shamed by the thought of it.

Luckily, it wasn't Jesus who actually casted him from heaven. The shame of that would have been beyond anything Lucifer could bare, and he knew that it was by God's mercy alone that Michael's hand was holding him over The Chasm of what God had created below.

If God had created anything yet, Lucifer thought. Time was strange.

Michael's hand gripped him near the shoulder, and both of his hands gripped tightly around his brother's forearm, trying to keep himself from falling backward into the unknown. Lucifer had watched as the other rebel angels were cast out before him. It was meant to be a punishment – God and Michael had wanted him to watch his brothers and comrades be cast aside before he was to teach him a lesson – but Lucifer didn't care much for any of them. Mammon, Beelzebub, and Belial were nothing to him. He barely even knew the names of the others.

Nothing compared to his love for their Father, to Michael.

And Lucifer was proud, yes, but he was also weak. He clenched at his brother, his pale eyes finding Michael's dark ones, and he tried to will himself to beg, one last time, for Michael to join him. In the end, he was too proud to beg Michael for anything, be it his allegiance or his mercy.

Lucifer's hands left Michael's arm, and without a word, Michael let go.

And Lucifer fell.

* * *

Time was strange, and it seemed to slow as Lucifer fell.

Nearly the instant Michael let go of him, Lucifer lost sight of his brother in the darkness, the nothingness that surrounded him.

Then, somewhere off to his left, there was a spark.

And then there was light.

It seemed to happen so quickly, but when he would look back on it later – knowing the story that the humans told to each other about this very instant – he doubted his own memory. Maybe it did take days. To him, as he fell, it seemed like there was light, a blinding, all encompassing white, that quickly faded into blue.

There wasn't a word for it before, but he suddenly knew it, just like everyone else knew it.

The sky.

Be it another day or just a matter of seconds, Lucifer managed to turn himself around so he was facing the way he was falling. From the central point of the explosion, rocks were shooting out, moving apart at a predictable, mathematical pattern. But it didn't feel like that, not at first. At first everything moved so quickly; chunks of heated rock sticking together and forming a large mass just under him, while it simultaneously happened everywhere around him and beyond the capabilities of his vision.

The word for the giant, floating rocks, he knew instantly, was planet.

Then, the planet under him – Earth as it would come to be called – split: a large chunk of land mass, surrounded entirely by water.

Lucifer tried to look around, seeing the two smaller planets forming next to the earth, when suddenly, another great ball of light burst forth. A sun, Lucifer knew. And other words came to him as he fell. Universe, cosmos, stars, moons. A way for humans to tell time: days, months, years. Words that made no sense – words that didn't exist – until God thought them up and they became.

Four days had passed according to the book that men would write and eventually call the divine word of God, and while Lucifer wasn't sure – he couldn't recall the difference between a second and a day, not as he was falling through God's newest creations – he was absolutely certain the men had gotten the next part wrong.

It didn't take God two days to create every animal, including humankind. He didn't rest on the seventh day.

God rested on the fifth day. Lucifer knew because he was there. That was the day he crashed into the center of the land mass and broke it apart.

* * *

Many, many earth years passed in a blur. Lucifer hadn't understood what it meant to have fallen from Grace until he realized his own limitations. His wings were useless – burned from his back – barely leaving the faint outline of what was once the most beautiful part of his body. As he picked himself up from the crevice, his brothers and sisters fell around him. Their craters were nothing like his, and Lucifer didn't know how they managed to be thrown out first but touch down last. Lucifer made the first mark in this new world, the first scar.

As his brothers and sisters pulled themselves up to join him, they looked up at him and wept for him, rather than their own damaged bodies.

Lucifer wept for none of them.

Instead, he knew he needed to be alone, so he walked away from them. It took no time for him to discover the Abyss, and he trudged through it and knew what was meant of him. It was a gift from his Father; although, gift was the wrong word. It was a new job.

Even his rebellion hadn't really been his own idea, of course. The seed had been planted long ago. Angels didn't have the free will that God intended for the humans to have. He knew what God wanted for him, and he was filled with rage.

He would play his intended role. And he would play it with everything he had.

Another word flashed into his head, and he scowled at it: actor.

Many years had passed by the time he had mapped hell and left to return to the others. They weren't hard to find; his comrades were still standing around the place he had landed.

But now, there wasn't one land mass. Instead, there was water between several segments, and his brothers and sisters shot him looks of awe as if he had intended to break apart their father's latest creation. Continents, oceans. In his head, Lucifer could see the numbers that the humans would eventually use to measure continental drift – he could see the horrors of earthquakes, volcanoes, of the repercussions of the tectonic plates colliding – but he shook his head as if he could shake them from his brain.

"God intends for this place to be ruled by humans," Lucifer told to his comrades, but despite their loyalty to him, they crowded near the very center of the new ocean, barely an inch separating it from the other land. His army was loyal, yes, but they had always lacked focus. "And I intend to…"

"Lucifer," Belial called, something akin to wonder in his voice. He pointed down at the water and said, "look!"

The angel took a step toward the water.

It was bubbling, and new words and pictures from God filled his brain. He could imagine the molten rock below the surface of the earth, the vents on the ocean floor heating and boiling the water. From these vents, something emerged.

Something moving.

Mammon screamed, and Beelzebub hit him.

"What is it?" Belial asked, bending over to look closer at the thing. It was microscopic, so small it could easily be missed. But they were former angels, after all. And while their wings were burnt and useless, they weren't completely drained of all power.

The word popped into Lucifer's head – his mind, but apparently nobody else's – and he was furious at God's manipulation. "The air here is stabilizing. It can support other life now, but barely. It is the first of the Archaea."

"It's _alive_?" Moloch asked. "This environment must not be stable for humans yet. Did God send these things to let him know when it was okay for them to come down here?"

"Should we… care for it or squash it?" Beelzebub asked, and suddenly, the fallen angels looked at Lucifer.

Lucifer sighed. "We aren't doing anything with it right now. Let the thing try to survive on its own. We're not here to cultivate the earth. Now come on. Our kingdom awaits."

The fallen angels were happy enough to leave the thing alone and follow their leader into the pits of hell.

* * *

But Lucifer was sadly mistaken; he _was_ here to cultivate the earth.

Many years passed before there was anything to even help, and many years more than that before he realized that cultivating was what he was even doing, but he couldn't help it. The life God had set in motion had been beautiful, and he was drawn to it with the goal of keeping it that way. He knew, deep down, it was some sort of therapy, that he was mourning his own beauty by making sure everything he saw was beautiful instead, but if he didn't think about it, it didn't count for anything bigger than pride.

Although hell was not designed to twist the angels – he had meant for it to twist humans into something impure that God could not possibly love – it was a toxic environment, and Lucifer was a toxic ruler. He wanted to know how he would break the humans and taint the souls God was so proud of developing, so he had the angels practice on each other in hell.

They were twisted, he noticed, not by having angel blades drawn over their bodies, but by hurting each other instead.

It was very interesting, but far less interesting than the way the shrubs started getting thicker barks, growing taller into trees.

Whenever the trees dropped seeds, Lucifer did what he could to make sure those seeds were given the best chance at turning into trees themselves, but the new insects – how did they even evolve? what did they come from? – were very important to the food chain.

It was sometime around then – the insects were still new, but the angels torturing each other in hell were not – that Lucifer caught a glimmer out of the corner of his eye and recognized one of his brothers. Time before the fall was messy, but he could remember his brothers.

His name was Castiel, and he was standing in front of the water.

When Lucifer looked up, he noticed his other brothers – the angels, not the tortured abominations gleefully carving each other to bits in hell – were flying above him, cataloging each and every creation. He noticed that they, unlike him, did not stop and appreciate the beauty; rather, they seemed to just be observing. They were taking it in, memorizing every life, but they weren't truly processing the information. They weren't able to see like he saw.

To his side, Castiel took a step toward the water, and Lucifer moved toward him instead. He grabbed one of his brother's arms and pulled, causing the younger angel to stumble backward in surprise more than actual force.

Lucifer had limited power, after all. The angels no longer feared him. But despite the fact that he was weakened, the angels still shunned him. None of them even spared him second glances; it was like they couldn't even see he was there.

But Castiel turned, eyes wide with wonder – just like the fallen had looked before their eyes darkened and they grinned with blood-stained teeth – and pointed down at the fish heaving itself up onto the shoreline.

"Lucifer," Castiel's voice was beautiful; it was a terrible, mocking godsend to hear the pureness of just one voice in the choir, speaking his name again. "Look at that."

So Lucifer tugged his arm again, and Castiel stepped willingly toward his fallen brother. "Don't step on that fish, Castiel. Big plans for that fish."

And there were, Lucifer knew, because he had seen what had come before, and he could only imagine what was to come after. Although he didn't really need to imagine because he knew what the endgame was: humankind.

And when they came, when the first homo sapiens gave way to cupid's conditioning to the perfect pairing, they were locked away in Eden. Adam and Eve, and it made Lucifer furious that the first two that God deemed worthy and truly human had been taken away from him.

He had big plans for the children of that fish, after all.

So he sat in hell, and he thought of a plan.

The other angels had been completely transformed by this time. They were not the demons that Lucifer intended to create from the warped human souls, but they were monsters nonetheless. All of the angels were darker – their preference for the underground left their Grace dull – but each to a different degree. Mammon carried about him things that he had taken from the others – precious little things like blades and tokens – whatever he, and they, considered to be worth something. Beelzebub, who once shined quite brightly, was dark and mangled. His Grace was oozing red from the sores on his body, and the insects from above attached themselves to the decay. Balial's darkness was mostly in his eyes; his bloodlust and lust for other things made him worthless as anything other than a torturer, and Moloch sat straight and proud – truly a disciple of Lucifer – who wanted didn't so much want revenge on God but wanted to be a false prophet in his stead.

There were three others still alive – though the course of their torturing, the former angels had killed all the others who fell with them – but they had been so badly changed, Lucifer couldn't recognize them by their angelic names anymore, and he couldn't be bothered to learn whatever they referred to themselves as now.

Collectively, Mammon called them the princes of hell. Lucifer thought they were idiots. As if any of them could possibly rank close to prince if he were their king, if he were their God.

"We could fight our way in," Beelzebub said, bringing his hand to his lips and sucking the insects from his skin into his mouth. He was quiet for a moment, jaw moving, but then he grinned. "We are far more skilled in…"

Lucifer sat lower in his chair, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. "You are skilled in torture, you giant ignoramus. You are not a more skilled fighter. Plus, there are only seven of you."

"But there's only one guard," Mammon said. "We could make a deal with him. We can take what…"

"I don't _want_ whatever you think he has that we need," Lucifer said. "I want the humans."

The… for lack of a better word to refer to them all as a collective… _the princes_ started babbling among each other, debating the merits of each of their stupid ideas. Each of them, he noticed, was starting to branch off, driven by a different desire. He recognized it forming, but it wasn't until he listened to them that he realized they were becoming the antithesis of the virtues they had been taught in heaven.

At first, he thought it was interesting, until he was overcome with rage. He could practically hear his Father laughing in his ear. He stood up from his chair, and he stormed out of hell. He marched toward the Garden of Eden, and he sat down outside its walls.

Gadreel, the angel on duty to defend the humans, looked at him for a moment, but determined he wasn't a threat, and looked away toward the thunderstorm over the ocean.

Lucifer watched as a snake slithered past Gadreel unnoticed.

And Lucifer wasn't powerless, but something like that… it would weaken him. But still, Lucifer watched Gadreel, and grinned none the less.

* * *

Humans were weak, Lucifer thought, as he sat on a branch of the Tree and watched as the angels came to punish everyone. Gadreel was dragged away, a traitor for tempting the humans, and the humans tried to cover their naked, fleshy bodies as the angels dragged them away from the Garden. Lucifer was in his true form again, and he picked a piece of fruit from the tree.

Even found in the epicenter, the angels didn't think him powerful enough to have transformed into a snake. And true, he was drained and weak, but he was far stronger than they.

He _barely_ had to tempt her, and Adam… he was even worse.

Lucifer bit into the fruit. It wasn't like he had an Eden that could be taken from him anyway.

"What are you doing?" Castiel called from the ground. He didn't need to shield his eyes from the sun, but he did so anyway, looking at his brother's outline. "Are you stuck? Do you need help getting down?"

"My wings are gone," Lucifer took another bite and spoke around the food. "But my legs still work fine."

"Oh," Castiel said, cocking his head to the side. "Are you eating that fruit?"

"No," Lucifer said. "I'm just tasting it."

"Oh," Castiel said again, frowning. "What does it taste like?"

"Here," Lucifer said, picking another piece of fruit from the Tree and tossing it to his little brother. "Try it. It's sweet."

"Sweet," Castiel repeated, and Lucifer remembered that Castiel had likely never tasted anything from the earth before. Lucifer would taste anything that the animals would eat. Well, except for the other animals. When Castiel took a bite of the fruit, his eyes closed in delight.

Lucifer smiled, raised his eyebrows, and had a private picnic with his brother in the Garden of Eden.

* * *

If tempting them to fall was easy, they were desperate for it once Original Sin set in. He didn't get to lay a claim over tempting Cain to kill Abel – the human chose to kill his brother _without temptation_, which totally would have baffled Lucifer if he hadn't been saying that they were terrible, unworthy monsters since God first had the spark of the idea for them – and then Cain disappeared into the city of lesser humans before Lucifer could tempt him to keep up the good work.

God promised to protect Cain, and so Lucifer never saw him again.

But Lilith came along soon enough, and she had been so easy. She'd been so willing. She hung on his every word, and Asmodeus – one of the original fallen who had changed his name with his new identity, (Lucifer wasn't sure if it was Balial or one of the others, they all looked so different now) – told him about the type of lust Lilith had for him.

Lucifer was disgusted that a filthy human could ever think themselves worthy of touching him, even fallen as he was, but Asmodeus grinned at her and took her hand, saying, "Well if he won't, I will." She had laughed and smacked him. He relented, but she was gone.

And the ex-angel might have escaped punishment for his first transgression, but this time he was caught red-handed, with his finger pointing Lilith toward the opening of Hell, and following her as she willingly walked inside and away from God's light.

Michael didn't go into hell to get Lucifer; the fallen angel had foolishly left the relative safety of the pit not long after Lilith had gotten there. She had taken up carving instantly, with no hesitation, and she already had a favorite new canvas: the soul of a woman named Abaddon.

The archangel came down on Lucifer with swift, divine justice, pinning Lucifer down like he was a fledgling again. The fallen angel swore, his lips twisting back into a snarl, as he gripped at Michael's calf and tried to tear his Grace apart.

"Get off of me."

"You're in trouble this time, brother."

"What, as opposed to last time when you threw me from my home which resulted in my wings burning from my back?" Lucifer hissed. "Oh yes, I'm sure this new punishment would be much worse than that."

It was much worse than that.

In the cage, he had nothing. He was confined in the deepest, darkest confines of Hell, completely cut off from the stupid princes, the moaning souls, and the hissing demons. Admittedly, that was probably a mercy or even a full out blessing, but Lucifer wanted nothing from his Father or brother. He wanted no small mercy or blessing; he wanted nothing but them at his feet, _begging_ for forgiveness when they realized that Lucifer was right about the humans, and they had been wrong.

Lucifer sat on the stone floor of his cage, trying to warm himself up from his rage.

The cage itself was a small circle made of stone, as if Michael had made a cylinder and put the archangel inside. And he noticed very early on that he was completely powerless. At least above, he had remnants of his abilities – he could hear his brothers speaking to each other – but here, he had nothing but the silence and the cold.

And God's mocking whisper in his ear.

Things continued to be created above, things continued evolving, and God knew it was what Lucifer missed the most. Lucifer missed the trees and the fish; he missed the deer and the birds. Every time one branched out, setting itself apart as a new species, God made sure to taunt the fallen, caged angel with the image of the animal and its name.

Lucifer drew his arms over his head and tried to block it out, thinking instead to his brother's parting words. Michael held him over the entrance to the cage the same way he held him from heaven, but Lucifer doubted a new planet would form to catch him from this fall this time.

Michael gripped him again, but this time by the throat, and Lucifer didn't understand how this transgression was any worse than trying to lead a rebellion against their Father, but Michael glared at him. There was heat in the look, and Lucifer growled, willing himself not to reach out into his brother's heat.

"You will never escape from here," Michael had hissed. "And when you are finally let out, it will only be for me to kill you."

Michael's rage was so warm, and Lucifer was so cold. Every ounce of his Grace wanted to move toward Michael, to beg, but again, Lucifer's pride would not allow him to ask for anything. He could barely speak – the ice was crippling him to his core – but he managed to spit the last words out through gritted teeth: "They are disgusting creatures. Join me now, or I will destroy you."

Michael laughed, _laughed_, and let go.

And Lucifer was left alone in his cage for many, many years.

* * *

He might have been denied access to all his favorite plants and creatures, but Lucifer knew everything. At first, he spent his time trying to put God's prideful mockeries – _"Look what I have created and what you can never hope to see"_ – from his mind, but one day, very early on, he picked up a rock from his cage floor and started tracking.

He started with what he saw, and he tracked their mutations and evolutionary advantages, adding the new animals to the line whenever God showed a new creation to him.

Despite how small the cage was, he never ran out of room – another supposed mercy from his Father – and time passed as he wrote. And Lucifer fell into the tracking, interested in the genetics and selective breeding that he did not see happening before his eyes, but could imagine with help of his Father.

Sometimes, when Lucifer was bored of his favorite hobby, he wondered if any of the fallen angels or early demons were left – they would be his only chance at getting out of here with any sort of advantage over Michael – but he didn't have any faith in them.

Needless to say he was surprised when heard a creature's voice echoing down the cage's walls. The voice was distorted, and when it gave its name, Lucifer yelled out to clarify. "Gadreel?"

"No, _Azazel_," the thing yelled back, but he sounded delighted. "I knew I would find you one day, Father. What do I need to do to get you out of there?"

Lucifer had never known how to free himself from the cage before, but as Azazel asked, Lucifer was given the answer. He could feel it – God's prodding and whispering in his head – and knew what needed to be done.

"Free Lilith from Hell," Lucifer shouted toward the top of the cave. "And find me a child. I cannot beat Michael in my current state. I need a special child to help me."

"You need a Boy King," Azazel laughed. "Like a much cuter, more demonic Christ child."

"Yes," Lucifer said, and he was giddy with the promise, the excitement. He found himself laughing too. He reached out and touched the wall of the cave, imagining his very own savior child. "A Boy King."

* * *

In the days since Azazel spoke to him, Lucifer changed his topic of writing. He no longer cared about the animals and plants – he would see them soon enough – and instead, he started trying to use the information he knew about genetics and the cupids' divine intervention to try and track the child. But God had not given him anything since Azazel. Lucifer didn't know what had happened to God – if he had left or if he had just stopped taunting him – but he didn't care either way. Because all he had to do now was wait.

And wait.

Until one day, something happened.

He felt his cage shake. Lucifer reached out his arms, bracing them on either side of the cage wall. He looked up, but the trembling wasn't due to an earthquake or anything natural. Well, that wasn't exactly right. What he felt was natural – so natural – and it called out to him like a beacon or a warning.

A human child had been born.

Lucifer turned around and found the note he made the last time the earth had trembled because of a soul. It was the day that little brat who had conquered him in heaven had been born. But this… this was not Jesus.

This was no second coming of that child. This was the first coming of his.

Lucifer looked back up to the top of the cage, where just eleven Earth years ago, Azazel had given him hope, and he hoped that the demon would be able to find the boy.

And as Lucifer scribbled out Christ's name and date on his wall and wrote in the new king, labeling it 'Boy King' just as Azazel had said, the fallen angel laughed.

* * *

He could feel every seal Lilith broke as if some invisible chains that were binding him were suddenly released. Lucifer didn't need to breath – he didn't have lungs or anything that a human had – but he could almost feel his torso expand, like new breath was breathed into him.

After the first ten seals, he realized he could hear the angels singing again. He was getting his limited, fallen power back, and Lucifer felt alive with it. He could hear the angels shouting – Castiel was questioning everything after he pulled the Righteous Man from Hell – and Lucifer heard about some angel sympathizers who wanted him free so he could rule the land.

There were others too, Michael's supporters, who wanted him freed so Michael could restore peace on earth. Unsurprisingly, there were more Michael supporters than rebel angels switching loyalties. But surprisingly, only Castiel seemed interested in stopping the coming apocalypse.

It would seem he gained something precious from sampling the forbidden fruit. Lucifer knew that the angel – if convinced onto his side – would make a worthy ally.

But still, it took time for Lilith to break the seals, and the days leading up to his freedom dragged. So instead, Lucifer thought about the Boy King.

At first, Lucifer imagined fire. Amongst the flames, a shadow loomed, standing tall and proud. His shape was human, but Lucifer couldn't imagine a face. There was blood – the boy was drenched in it from opening the seals and crawling around in the aftermath – and there were demons lying dead at his feet.

He imagined the way the human would welcome him in with love and awe. Lucifer deserved love and awe.

The caged angel imagined a demon for every man, woman, and child. There were swarms of them, until no demon was left without a host. He could imagine being free from his cage, standing on the mountain inside the Boy King's flesh. Lucifer would raise his hands and laugh. He'd show his Father; look, he would say, look at what the humans have done.

It would truly be an antithesis to the Christ child, Lucifer thought.

But then, Lucifer frowned.

That would be a proper villain – a human without a demon, but driven as if he were possessed by one – but Lucifer almost couldn't imagine any king serving under him to act like the princes, the tortured angels who fell with him. If this child were worthy of him, worthy to contain the remains of Lucifer's Grace, then he would have to be compatible.

There would be no fire, as fire would burn the earth. The Boy King would love it – love every plant that grew and creature unsullied by man's greed – and he would want to protect it. The earth was beautiful; the Boy King would not set fire to it.

The Boy King, like Lucifer had so long ago, would cultivate it.

The boy was human. He thought like a human and he acted like a human, but he was still compatible with Lucifer. He would be the best, most blessed creature to walk the earth.

Lucifer sat down against the wall of the cage, frowning up at the top of his cylinder.

The Boy King deserved to be loved. When Lucifer entered his body, he would treat it like a temple.

* * *

As Lilith's blood circled around the entrance of his cage, the ground shook. The walls of the cage fell inward, trying to trap him as the ceiling crumbled away. It would be easier to get out of the cage if he still had his wings, but instead, he had to drag himself out. His Grace was bright – it always had been, even after the fall – and it reached out to the heavens the second he was free.

But by the time he managed to escape, he was alone in the monastery.

Well, not alone. Lilith was there, and another demon. They were dead, and there was no Boy King waiting for him with open arms. Lucifer frowned.

He should be able to sense his true vessel, but he couldn't find him. It was like there was a shroud on his soul, and the fallen angel was angry, frustrated that the boy was hiding from him.

And to be honest, he was hurt, too.

There was so much promise in this relationship; at least, there was in Lucifer's imagination. They would not really exist separately, but Lucifer could do things for his vessel. He could peer at his desires, deep in his mind. The ex-angel would fulfill those desires. He would punish who the Boy King thought deserved it, and he would reward those who were kind to him.

Lucifer had imagined moving in the Boy King's flesh, feeling how intimately he filled him out. Every ounce of his Grace would spread through every cell in the boy's body, joining them as one. He would love that body as if it were his own. He would adore what was his because how could he not?

But the Boy King was not here. He had been – he had to have been if his cage door opened – but he had left.

It made Lucifer wonder what had gone on. Why would the boy who freed him run away?

Maybe he didn't run away. Maybe he had been captured by their enemy.

A cool rage spread throughout Lucifer's Grace, and he quickly located a suitable vessel. It was not his true vessel, but he would do until he could find the Boy King and save him. Unable to fly with his broken, burned wings, Lucifer started walking.

* * *

Nick had been easy to tempt, but not as easy as Adam and Eve or Lilith. It seemed that his transgression had consequences, and his brothers made sure the humans knew who was responsible for the evil in the world.

As if.

The humans, Lucifer wanted to scream to the world, had done it to themselves. He didn't force anyone to do anything. He gave them a choice – as he was giving Nick a choice – and the humans took it. Just like Nick took it.

Revenge was a very strong motivator, after all.

As Lucifer walked out of Nick's house – in Nick's body – some demons approached him. He could see their true faces, but he hadn't known them before. He hadn't known any of the demons before his imprisonment. He thought about asking for the princes for a moment, but he knew they wouldn't know them. The princes were legend; they were all gone now.

Lucifer wondered if they tore themselves to pieces in Hell, or if they died searching for a way to free him. He would have preferred the latter, but assumed the former.

"Where is he?" Lucifer asked, and the demons looked at one another. "The Boy King, my vessel. Where is he?"

"He is with War," one of the demons said. For a moment, Lucifer felt the corners of Nick's lips twitch: an unconscious attempt at a smile. Already, the Boy King was moving on to the Horsemen. He was setting everything up to ensure their success, he… "He's fighting War."

"He's _what?_"

"He's… fighting War. He and his brother, Michael's vessel, they're trying to stop the apocalypse. They're working together."

Lucifer frowned. He didn't have the time or the patience to marvel at the sensation in his head, the way furrowed brows felt on his face. Instead, he said, "Take me to him," and the demons gestured to a car they left on the street.

If he had only still had his wings, he could fly to War's location in a moment. He couldn't feel his vessel, but he could feel War like a pulse on the side of his brain, an angry, throbbing headache that wouldn't relent.

It would take forever to drive there, and Lucifer hoped that by the time they made it, his vessel would not be gone.

* * *

He was. Everybody was gone when Lucifer made it to War. The Horseman was weak without his ring, drinking in a bar, and Lucifer was furious.

The demons were sure the Winchesters had fought and split up, but it didn't make Lucifer feel any better. The demons weren't a hundred percent sure where his vessel was, even though everyone knew that the older Winchester was running around with Castiel, looking for Raphael in hopes of finding God.

At this point, it had been years since Lucifer had last heard God's mocking voice in his head. God was gone.

From their base on Earth, the demons whispered about Dean and Castiel's brothel date, giggling about the angel who would defy everything for a man. Many of them talked fondly about Dean – as if he had personally tortured each and everyone one of them in all the best ways and they missed his touch – and Lucifer's head was pounding. He wrapped himself in a blanket, staring at a map, trying to guess where his vessel would go.

His name was Sam, Lucifer learned. And he was perfect.

The demons knew nearly everything about the Winchesters, as the brothers had been chased and monitored by demons for nearly all their lives. The Winchesters were monsters, the demons whispered. They were to be feared. Lucifer may have been biased, but Sam Winchester was no monster. He was nothing like the demons that Lucifer had to rely on; he was nothing like the demons Sam had drained dry out of necessity.

Sam Winchester was a martyr. He would do what he believed to be right; he would do whatever it took to save the earth.

Lucifer could help him with that goal.

But for now, he was stuck with the demons. They didn't seem worried that their leader was a broken angel; they didn't care that he couldn't fly, even though some of them could vanish and reappear wherever they wanted. The crossroad demons made him nauseous with their displays of power – it wasn't something they were trying to hold over him, but it was something they did so naturally and without thought that it made Lucifer wonder how they managed to evolve into something more powerful than even a fallen angel – and when he heard about what Lilith had been capable of he stormed off to the diner down the street.

Food was far more readily available now than it had been, but it all tasted like shit.

The demons told him that Sam was a real green freak, and Lucifer wished that he could have given his vessel a taste of the stuff that grew before men tainted the earth. One bite of the fruit from the Tree, and Sam would have been his.

Although, he did admit that he rather liked strawberries. The wild strawberries of his past had been nothing compared to the new garden variety that had bred in France in the 1750s, and the demons started leaving him quarts of strawberries from the Farmer's Market to appease and calm him.

The demons did find Sam, but completely on accident. A random group of demons called Sam's location in, and while Lucifer was on his way some hunters attacked. There were more demons already on the scene – every demon and their mother heard that Lucifer wanted access to Sam, and they all thought he would reward them if they delivered – and the hunters were slaughtered.

One of the demons in the front seat of the car said the hunter gathered up some blood, and that he intended to feed it to Sam. When Lucifer and his demonic drivers got to town, Sam had abandoned the bar, but he hadn't left the motel yet. He was exhausted, trying to catch a few hours sleep before leaving again. They almost didn't catch him.

He felt stupid, standing outside Sam's hotel door like he was a suitor come calling. And he was angry at his own weakness. He should have been there. He should have been able to fly to Sam, to beat the hunters back, to destroy them for raising a finger against his vessel.

And more than anything, Lucifer realized this incident – Sam's refusal to give in to his addiction and drink again – was a refusal of the demons, a refusal of him as their leader.

The fallen angel took a step back. Although it was just a door – a weak, manmade opening in a weak, manmade wall – it might as well have been the cage. It could have been Gadreel, guarding the garden. Lucifer would never make it inside.

Except.

Except that once, he did make it inside, disguised as a snake.

Lucifer put his hand on the door and closed his eyes.

* * *

He was on his side on the bed, and when he felt the body shift behind him, he tensed. There was a hand trailing gently down his arm, and a warm press of lips against his neck.

When Sam moved away, Lucifer rolled onto his back, resting his arms gently on his stomach, on the girl's stomach, and something felt wrong. This was just like the time with the snake – altering perceptions, a small temptation, and a delicious reward – but it was so different, looking up at his true vessel.

The look Sam gave him – no, gave his dead girlfriend Jessica Moore – was so… Lucifer knew love. He fell for love and disguised it as pride. He had imagined it in the cage, the way Sam would look at him with love and awe because he was his angel.

Sam looked at Jessica like that.

There were words that Lucifer had meant to say – words had always come so easy to him, with Adam and Eve and Lilith – but they died in his throat, looking up at that human. The Boy King. Lucifer reached up his arm and let his fingers touch Sam's face.

He didn't pull away; he didn't know who it was. But Lucifer couldn't pull away either.

"Jess," Sam started, and Lucifer's hand snapped back as if it had been burned. "Jess, I love…"

"I need to talk to you," Lucifer said, his voice coming out as hers, and he sat up in the bed, frowning. Sam mirrored his actions, and Lucifer let go of the disguise. He couldn't be the snake again, and he couldn't understand why. Predictably, Sam jumped off the bed and moved away from him. "I'm at your door right now. Please let me inside the room."

"Who are you?" Sam demanded, the rough edge of his voice hurt Lucifer's ears, but the ex-angel just held his gaze.

"You know who I am."

And when Sam hissed his name like a curse, the archangel looked toward the door.

"I can't stay here much longer," Lucifer admitted. "And when you wake up, I will be outside your door. There are three demons with me."

"You… and three…"

"I'll kill them before you wake up," Lucifer said, looking back up at his vessel. "If you want me to, if that makes you more comfortable. It would make me more comfortable. Honestly, I've just been waiting for an opportunity, but… Sam, I'll be out there. I'll be out there alone, and I want you to let me in."

"Why the fuck would you think I'd let you in my room?" Sam all but yelled, and Lucifer felt his powers straining. Telekinesis was one thing, he could do that all day long with what was left of his burnt Grace, but this… this was pushing it. He would burn through Nick right now if he didn't leave the dream.

"I'm not an angel anymore, Sam. I'm not like Michael or Castiel," Lucifer reached toward Sam, but the boy dodged him. "I'm weak."

And Sam was gone.

Rather, Lucifer was gone, thrown back into his body on the other side of the door, both hands pressed against the wood to keep him up right. His back was hunched, and he felt his Grace seizing inside Nick's body. He coughed, the body had no idea how to react to the strain, and the demons were on him in seconds, hovering.

Inside, he heard something drop to the floor. Sam was awake in there, and the demons were out here with him, alive.

But that was fixed quickly, and Lucifer summoned his angel blade.

By the time Sam opened the door, Lucifer was on the ground. The demons were too, and Lucifer tried to rise from their collective puddle of blood, but he stumbled forward, the last ounces of his broken, weak Grace giving out.

He didn't hit the ground. Despite the gun in Sam's hand – that would be useless against him anyway – the Boy King didn't let him fall. He caught him, and Lucifer barely managed to squeeze one sentence out before his Grace finally gave out. "I'm sorry. The blood wasn't meant to be a temptation."

* * *

When he woke, he was in Sam's bed. It wasn't too different from the dream, except for the fact that he wasn't Jessica and Sam wasn't in bed with him. Lucifer blinked his eyes and frowned.

Sam was sitting on a chair in the kitchen part of the room, his eyes set on Lucifer, but he had no weapon. He knew Castiel, so the hunter likely knew how futile it was to try and kill an angel.

Thank God he put his angel blade away before he passed out.

"Sam," Lucifer started, sitting up, but the hunter shook his head.

"You stunk," Sam said. The terror Lucifer saw in the dream had given away to something else. Unease and fear were still there. There was a bit of rage that went along with it. But more so than any of that, Sam looked exhausted. Lucifer wondered how long he must have been out for the anger and fear to give into the exhaustion. "I had to change you and burn your clothes. So sorry about that, I guess."

"You could have thrown me out," Lucifer added quietly, but Sam ignored him.

"Hurry up and say your piece," Sam sighed. "Then leave me alone."

"I… Well, first, I wanted to thank you for letting me out," Lucifer started, but Sam snorted, unimpressed. "Truly. It was hell in there, and I want to give you something. I want to give you everything…"

"I don't want anything from you," Sam said, but it wasn't biting or harsh. It was simple and cold, and Lucifer frowned. "What else?"

"I need your help."

"You're not getting that either," the hunter said. "And if I had to sit in a room with you smelling like _demon blood_, only to get fed up after hours and actually changing your clothes so I could breathe, and all you have to discuss with me is…"

"You're the one, Sam," Lucifer said, looking up, suddenly desperate. "Nick… my vessel. He's not as strong as you are. I need you to stop my brother. I need your help to show my father how wrong he was once and for all. You're my true vessel, Sam. Dean is Michael's, and you are mine."

For a moment, Sam looked panicked, but Lucifer could barely sit up. Sam couldn't kill him, but they were on much more even terms than Sam would have been had Lucifer still had his full powers, even if he was still at his full abilities without his wings and with his burnt Grace. He calmed quickly.

"You're an angel. You need my consent."

"Of course," Lucifer nodded.

"Never. I'll never give it to you. I would kill myself before I would help you destroy the world, and…"

"I don't want to destroy the world, Sam," Lucifer said. "I want to save it. I _love_ this world, and I have been denied it for many years. I told my Father from the very first moment he created humans that you would ruin everything. They were dirty and unworthy of love and I was there at the start of it all. I saw the planets form. I saw the single celled organisms evolve. I saw plants, and I watched as the first fish crawled up on the shore. I took care of everything. This world was mine, and the humans… they _took_ it from me. They industrialized. They polluted everything. Do you have any idea how many things are extinct now? Foods you couldn't even imagine, Sam, so much of it gone because of your species. I fell because I loved my Father more than I could love those vile creatures. And I was thrown into the Pit for trying to show him how awful they were. Now, I need to prove once and for all that I was right. I am right. And I need to save what's left here. It's _mine_. The only way to do that is to take everything back from Michael."

For a long moment, Sam was quiet. Lucifer's hands had balled into fists at his knees, and he was shivering with his rage, but he fought the urge to pull the blanket around him. Sam's borrowed clothes should have been enough.

"You want to save the world by destroying it?"

"If I have to start over, then so be it," Lucifer said. "I know everything about evolution. I know everything about mutations and divine intervention. If the Neanderthals weren't given souls that made them feel above every other creature that my Father created, then they would know their pecking order. They wouldn't have ruined everything."

"He created you, too. And you think you're above everything."

"I _am_ above everything," Lucifer stated quietly. He was bubbling with rage, and it was suffocating him. "I was here first. I was the first being to touch this land, I made the first…"

Sam looked at him, eyebrows raised, but Lucifer looked away, thinking.

His body had broken apart Pangaea when he landed. He sent the continents adrift. He blamed the humans for ruining perfection, but...

But he left the first scar.

"Hey, uh, Lucifer?… are you…?"

And Sam – his first scar was from Lucifer, too. Well, from Azazel, but on Lucifer's orders. Lucifer might as well have killed Sam's mom, ruined his dad, and made his brother abandon him. Sam was only alone, only willing to talk to him now, because Lucifer had left scars on Sam.

"Do you have hope, Sam?" Lucifer asked, tilting his head to the side to study Sam's reaction. "Do you think people can change?"

"Of course I have hope. I knew who you were and I still let you in my room, didn't I?" Sam said, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. It was so tiny – but so like the easy looks that Sam had given Jess in his dream – and Lucifer believed him. Of course Sam had hope. The Christ Child was full of hope and love and forgiveness. It was what the humans needed at the time of his birth.

And Sam was his savior; he was the one to free him from his cage. Sam was what Lucifer needed.

"But, that being said, I'm not going to change my mind. I won't let you in to have this big epic fight with Michael. Maybe you should call him up and talk it out."

"Why don't you?" Lucifer asked. "Why is Dean with Castiel and not with you?"

"Well, besides the obvious?" Sam asked, trying for humor but it came out flat. "I mean, would you want to hang around with the guy who let Lucifer out of his cage so that he could destroy the world? I mean, no offence."

"I would," Lucifer smiled. "Yes."

Sam narrowed his eyes, "It's for the best."

"It's not. When Dean says yes to Michael, then you and I…"

"Dean will never say yes to Michael," Sam stated. There was real conviction behind his words; he did not doubt his brother. "I mean, I say I won't but… Look at my mistakes. Dean though, no. Dean will never say yes."

"They brought him back from hell for that purpose."

"Doesn't matter. Dean won't. If Michael wants to fight you that bad, he'll have to find another vessel."

Lucifer would not be hard to kill – and although Sam was optimal for his success – it hardly guaranteed him an edge. If he managed to equip every demon with an angel blade, maybe, but Lucifer was weak. He was fallen, broken. He wasn't even an angel; an archangel could smite him without a thought.

So why hasn't Michael just gotten it over with already? Why even bother with the Winchesters?

Why wasn't their Father talking to him anymore?

And then it hit him, all at once. Everything lined up as if his Father had truly spelled it out for him.

Lucifer was cast out of heaven, and he made the first scar on the earth, but he cared for it. For millions of years, Lucifer had been careful – he never gave in and tortured the others, he never demonized himself – to be there to take care of nature.

He was forgiven his second transgression of tempting Adam and Eve – because he was given hell, because it was what was expected of him – but he was locked away for his third, corrupting Lilith.

He was locked away until a savior could…

"Lucifer?"

… save everything.

"After the flood, God promised never to start over again. I was already gone by then, but he… he gave up on you once. He wanted a reboot with just Noah's family," Lucifer started. "You know what we called you, Sam? We called you the Boy King. You were _my_ Boy King, the one who would free me from my prison and who would help me teach my Father a lesson. But he already gave up on humans once. He _knows_ that I was right. He knew early on that I was right."

"What are you…?"

"But He had faith in you. He believed there was hope." Lucifer stood, still unsteady, and he crossed the motel room. Sam didn't flinch away from him. In fact, when Lucifer reached out, cupping the side of Sam's face, the hunter only narrowed his eyes. "You aren't _my_ Boy King. You're _their_ savior. Not a second coming of God's king, but a first coming of theirs."

"Whose?" Sam asked.

"The humans," Lucifer's other hand reached out, trapping Sam's head between both of his hands. Still, the human didn't make a move to leave; instead, he looked up at Lucifer with confusion, with disbelief… with awe. "You'll be the one to save all of them."

* * *

Although it wasn't God's voice whispering in his head anymore, Lucifer knew the next steps as if they had been stored inside him for all of time. And maybe it had been. Maybe his Father had told Michael and the angels one thing, but He meant for something else to happen. It wouldn't be the first time He had manipulated everyone.

Sam and Dean needed to be together. Lucifer didn't know how he knew, but somewhere deep in his mind, he saw the catastrophic turn of events the world would suffer if the Winchesters couldn't reconcile.

Dean was not pleased when he stepped out of the car and saw that Lucifer was sitting on a picnic bench just behind Sam. Castiel – initially – had felt the same way. Luckily, he was easier to satisfy.

"Brother," Lucifer called, raising the plastic box in his arms so Castiel could see it. "It isn't quite the fruit from the Tree, but have you ever tried strawberries?"

The angels sat on the bench and watched the brothers talk it out. Castiel complained that he could barely taste the fruit, that instead of the sweetness like the fruit from the Tree, all he could taste were each individual molecule.

Lucifer drew the carton closer to himself, grinning, "Thank God my wings getting burnt from my back meant I grew taste buds, then. More for me."

Eventually, the Winchesters came back to the angels. Dean wasn't happy, but Sam's smile was like a victory to Lucifer, and he stood as his vessel approached him.

It was on to phase two; they summoned Michael.

More than either of the two most recent times he saw his brother – when Michael was pushing him out of heaven and pushing him into the cave – Lucifer realized how futile a fight between the two of them would be. Michael, unhappy at being caught in a ring of holy oil in the middle of a cemetery, peacocked. His wings were huge and full, and something inside Lucifer ached just seeing them.

His own feathers were burnt to nothingness, the bones sore and fragile looking. It wouldn't be a fair fight, and Lucifer wouldn't have had a chance at winning.

He didn't recognize the vessel his brother was wearing; he was likely a substitute for Dean, just as Nick was a substitute for Sam.

"We're here to negotiate," Sam called out, but Michael laughed.

"I think that you need to have something I want or at least some sort of leverage for that," Michael said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And you have neither."

"We want you to stand down," Dean said. "We're going to fix this. We're going to fix the damage that was done on the world, and we're going to stay here. You can't have it."

"This war will come to pass," Michael said. "Because God commanded it to be so, and I – unlike some of your friends, it would seem – am a good son. I will do as he says."

"You have two options," Dean continued, ignoring the angel. "You can agree to call the whole thing off and stay your asses in heaven, or we can take you off the chessboard."

"What do you mean…" Michael started, but Sam held up his hands. They had gotten War's ring on their own, and it took no time to raise Death and get the other rings with the Winchesters helping him. Behind them, Lucifer shifted on his feet and avoided his brother's eyes. It wasn't enough. "You're going to stick me into _your _cage? You have always been an insolent child, Lucifer, who broke his toys just for attention, but this? You haven't learned anything, have you? This is your Father's plan. You're really going to help a pair of…"

"Humans?" Lucifer asked, tilting his head to the side. "You're the one who's supposed to love and worship and respect the humans. Yet, you want to risk their lives and the life of this planet just to destroy me. And for what? Because Daddy told you to? He gave me the Earth once, Michael. He gave me hell to punish those who bad. I have always played my part, and it's time for you to play yours."

It was quiet in the cemetery for a long time. Lucifer could hear the crackling of the fire, the birds in the trees in the distance, and nothing more. After a long time, Michael finally shifted on his feet, moving in his circle so he could look around the Winchesters at his brother. Sam tried to step in between them again, but Lucifer shook his head.

"What is it that you want from me?" Michael asked.

"The same thing I wanted from Father. An apology, and maybe an acknowledgement that I had been right all along. I want you to leave the earth alone. I want to continue on nurturing it."

"If an animal or a crop has a parasite, how do you save the host?" Michael asked, suddenly angry. "You can't have it both ways. You destroy the parasite and save the host or you let the parasite kill it. There is not changing the nature of vermin, Lucifer."

"People can change," Sam yelled out, but Michael just laughed.

"I've seen people change," the angel said. "I've seen Lucifer change people. They go from violent, self-interested humans into violent, self-interested demons. If people change, it's only for the worse."

"You're wrong, brother," Castiel said, frowning. "Humans are infinite potential. We're supposed to protect them along with the earth."

"You're naive," Michael said. "And your viewpoint has been tainted do to your own self-interest. You are a peculiar one, Castiel. But you're no better than he is. A rebel, a traitor."

"Don't take it personally," Lucifer tried to joke. "He's jealous he didn't get to share any fruit with me. Nobody likes being replaced."

Castiel actually gave a small smile at that, and he nodded at Sam. "The angels will be lost without Michael. If he is poison, it would be safer to remove him from the equation. None of the others are capable of independent thought."

"Why is that?" Dean asked.

"Why do you have free will?" Lucifer asked. "Because I gave it to you. I enlightened you, when I tempted Adam and Eve. When Castiel ate from the Tree, he was given it to. The fact that Michael is blindly following orders isn't his fault. He's just an asshole following orders."

"Don't you dare…" Michael started, but he was cut short when Sam threw the rings into the center of the holy fire. The pit opened, and because Michael was unable to escape the fire, he fell in. Behind him, the gate shut, locking him inside the cage.

For a heartbeat, everything was silent. It was Dean who broke it, letting out a triumphant yell and collected Sam in a triumphant hug. The Winchesters laughed – on edge and alive with their victory – and then Dean turned toward the angels.

He nodded at Lucifer before wrapping his arm around Castiel's shoulder, dragging him back to the car.

And then it was just Lucifer and Sam, standing in the graveyard.

"Do you really think none of the other angels will try to end the world?" Sam asked, and Lucifer shook his head.

"There will be others. Raphael, for example, will not be happy. But the rest of them follow a leader. If the leader is someone who preaches peace, then peace will come," Lucifer looked at Sam. "Castiel just needs to solidify his rule before Raphael's loyalist can gain momentum."

"Cas?" Sam asked. "You're voting for Cas for new king of Heaven?"

"Naturally," Lucifer said. "He's the only one that I can trust not to free Michael and let him end the world."

"Because he ate the fruit with you," Sam asked. "Because he has free will like you do? You know, if Castiel got his free will from the fruit, where did you get yours? When you fell did you just happen to get it or was it when you ate the fruit, too?"

Lucifer frowned. "I never had free will, Sam. I've always acted predictably with the information I was given at the time. God always gave me what I needed to do exactly has He planned."

"He planned all this?" Sam asked. "He wanted us to lock Michael in the cage and save the world?"

"Of course He did," Lucifer said. "Try as I might, I cannot defy Him. It's frustrating."

For a moment they were quiet, and then Sam started walking back toward the car. Suddenly, Lucifer could feel it. It was something in the air – something bright and alive and new – something he hadn't ever felt before. When Lucifer didn't follow, Sam stopped and turned around. "Hey, are you okay?"

"I have never had free will before," Lucifer said. "But I'll take it right now."

"What…" Sam started to say, but he was cut off. Lucifer reached forward, gripping Sam's face again, just as he had in the motel room the night they met. The human didn't flinch away, just like last time. He made no move to escape, not even when Lucifer took a breath and moved his face in.

Instead, when Lucifer's lips touched Sam's, the human kissed him back.

They were met almost instantly with a loud beep, and Lucifer tore away from Sam at the sound of the Impala's Horn.

"Hey," Dean yelled, climbing out of the car. "I know we just stopped the apocalypse and all, but keep your hands off my brother, Satan. Now hurry up. Cas wants to get some pancakes."

"Castiel doesn't want pancakes," Lucifer said aloud to Sam. This time, when the hunter started walking back to the car, the fallen angel followed. "He doesn't really care for the taste of molecules."

"What about you?" Sam asked, laughing. "Do you like molecule-flavored pancakes?"

"You know that I prefer strawberry; although, I would like to try chocolate chip, too. Chocolate chips had not been invented yet the last time I was here."

When they made it to the Impala, Castiel was already sitting in the back behind Dean, his head resting against the backseat with a small, tired smile on his lips. Sam opened the back door and nodded at Castiel.

"Hey," Sam said. "Why don't you take shotgun? You deserved it. I hear you're getting a new job."

Castiel didn't comment, he just looked from Sam to Dean and slid out of the car. Sam took his place in the back – Lucifer took his place next to Sam – and they watched as Castiel sat in the front seat of the Impala. The hunter and the angel shared a look, and Sam caught Lucifer's eye and made a face at the display.

Eventually, though, Dean started the car, and they started moving.

Cars were certainly not as quick as flying had been, and Lucifer missed the feeling of the wind in his face as he soured high over the heavens. But when he rested his head against the back of the seat and listened to the Winchesters bicker about music – both of them still high on adrenalin from being unsung heroes, saviors who would never get credit for their sacrifices – Lucifer could forget about that.

He rolled down the window. It was as close to flying as he felt since he fell.


End file.
